Just Another Sorrow to Drown
by kingszey
Summary: "She created a world of her own simply because living in the real world was too terrifying for her." Luna/Blaise one-shot. T for alcohol abuse.


The Firewhiskey hit the back of her throat, burning as it slid down her. She slammed the glass back onto the table, where it banged against the assortment of empty bottles and shot glasses. She pushed her mess of dirty blonde hair out of her face and stared aimlessly out the foggy window to the icy, snowy street of Hogsmeade.

She shouldn't be here for a number of reasons. She had snuck out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night, as she did most nights, which was a clear violation of several school rules. Also, as a fifth year, she was drinking underage – though the bartender in the Hogs Head had always been happy to serve her. She suspected that he enjoyed watching her drown her sorrows away every night. That, and she was probably his main source of income in the grotty bar.

She felt like she didn't have any other choices. Here, at night, was her only chance to simply let herself fall apart. During the day she covered her face in make-up to disguise her hangovers, and put on this dreadfully pretty little smile. She chatted absentmindedly about Nargles and Snorkacks, creating a world of her own simply because living in the real world was too terrifying for her.

Truth was, she had stopped believing in the magic of those creatures a long time ago. Now they were just welcome distractions, things that she could cling to in order to make sure that she kept a grip on sanity, no matter how small it was.

"Loony Lovegood. Didn't think I'd see you here." A cold voice broke into her thoughts.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to place the voice. It wasn't one that she recognised, but this person certainly knew her. _Of course they know you, you're the school freak! _She grimaced and dragged her eyes away from the window, turning to see how it was that they had managed to recognise her even in this state.

"Blaise." She said dully. She had never talked to the Slytherin sixth year student, but she had heard about him, and had certainly seen him around.

"No need to sound so unwelcoming," he said, eyes glittering dangerously. "What do you think you're doing here, anyway?"

"Drinking, same as every night," she grumbled, returning her wide blue eyes to the frosty glass window. "Now please leave me alone."

The chair next to her scraped across the bar floor, and she heard Blaise flop down in it. "I'm hardly going to leave you alone now, look at the state of you! You could yourself into trouble." She saw him motion to the bartender out of the corner of her eye, and the old man came over with two more drinks.

She reluctantly took the drink he held out to her then gulped it down. With a slam, it joined the growing mass of empty glasses.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, sipping his Firewhiskey calmly. "I must say, Loony, you're the last person I would have expected to see here."

"Luna," she corrected through gritted teeth then got unsteadily to her feet, planning on finding a new table where she could wallow without interruption. It was, after all, the reason she came here – to get away from everything and everyone and let that stupid, silly mask slip off for a few hours before she had to go back and face it all again.

"Hey, come on!" his hand shot out, grasping her arm just above the elbow. "While we're both here, we may as well talk." He shot her a pleading look.

"Fine," she hissed, dropping back into her seat. She wasn't willing to admit that she had just been about to lose her balance before he had essentially caught her. "But don't touch me ever again."

"Fair enough." He took another sip of his drink, peering at her thoughtfully over the brim of his glass. "You don't seem like this kind of person, you know. The drinking, the clothes…" he trailed off, unashamedly letting his eyes linger on her low cut top, her short skirt. He smirked when he saw her tugging down the hem of her skirt uncomfortably.

"Yeah well, I'm a good actor. Every day, at school, all that smiling and craziness… that's not me. _This _is me. Gloomy and depressed." She sighed.

He made a face. "So the whole craziness thing… you don't actually believe in all those weird creatures, do you?"

"Not even a little bit. But even pretending to believe in _something _gives me the energy to keep on living. I get up every day and force myself to go about the business of living. I smile and I lie and I look for things to have faith in. I pretend that everything's alright because I _want _everything to be alright. But really, I'm just waiting for someone to ask if I'm okay for once, and because they're genuinely concerned, not because they're just curious or looking for gossip. Maybe then I'd be able to tell them." She found the words tumbling from her mouth, faster than she could stop them.

Blaise stared into his drink, and she began to worry that she'd scared him off. Finally, he said, "Are you okay?"

She smiled a tiny, genuine smile. "No."

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze. "But I don't get it! You're fifteen-"

"Sixteen." She broke in.

"Fine, you're sixteen," he revised, smiling at her childish, impulsive correction. "You're sixteen, so what could possibly be so bad that you feel this way?"

"But that's just it!" she cried. "I'm sixteen, and I always thought I'd have things worked out by now. I don't, though. I've never had a boyfriend, never been kissed. I don't have any real friends. The whole school knows me as a freak. And my mother…" her voice trembled. "Seven years ago, I watched my mother die. And that sort of sticks with you, you know? She meant the world to me, and I'm still trying to fill up the space that she left."

Blaise winced. "I'm sorry."

She snorted, and snatched the Firewhiskey out of his grasp. "Don't be," she snarled, gulping down the remainder of his drink.

"Hey! That's-" He started, but sighed wearily instead of finishing his sentence. He called the bartender over once more, ordering them two more drinks. "So you really come here every night, then?" he asked curiously, watching her gulping down her new drink.

"Yep, every night," she confirmed, her voice developing a definite slur. "And what brings you here, through the rain and snow?"

"I guess I decided I could do with a bit of a pick-me-up," he explained. "See, my mother has had a lot of boyfriends since my father, and this latest one… well, he seems to think I'm a bit of a threat to him for my mother's affection. He hits me when my mother isn't around. I tried to tell Mum but she didn't seem to want to hear it, and just today I got a letter explaining that they're getting married." He sighed. "I want to be happy for her, but I just can't, not while she's with _him_."

"Oh, Blaise…" she said softly. "That's horrible! But are you sure _she's _happy anyway? A person can have a lot of reasons for playing along with something. Maybe she doesn't want to marry him."

"If she didn't want to marry him, then she wouldn't. She's an independent woman. Strong."

Luna frowned, and looked once more at the windows, even though they were so fogged up it was impossible to see anything out of them.

"What do you see there?" Blaise asked after a while. "When I came in, you were looking there, and whenever you get confused or angry or upset, you look there again."

"I don't see anything there." She replied simply. Then she reached out a finger and drew a rune neatly on the condensation on the glass.

"What does it mean?" Blaise wondered aloud, staring at the neat lines that were already beginning to disappear.

She smiled lightly. "It means _lost. _I think we're all a bit lost, all searching for ourselves. All searching for a place where the sun will shine for us."

She looked back at Blaise, who in turn met her eyes. Blaise let the moment stretch on for a while before he spoke. "So what you said earlier, about never being kissed…"

She rolled her eyes. "Is that seriously all you picked up from this conversation?"

"Of course not. I picked up they're you're hurting, broken. You're waiting for someone who understands to come along. You're lonely. You're desperate. You need someone who cares." He leaned forward, his face an inch away from hers. "But things aren't going to get better until you _let_ someone care."

She gulped, shivering from the sheer lack of space between them. "I'm letting you care," she said quietly.

All at once, he captured her lips with his. Her eyes fluttered shut and all she was aware of was one of his hands in her hair, the other at the small of her, and his lips on hers. All too soon, he broke away, leaving her breathless. A smirk played at his lips.

"Not bad, Loony."

"Luna," she corrected softly, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Of course." He knocked back the last of his drink and stood up. Enjoying the feel of towering over her sitting form, he tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'll see you around, Luna." He said, slightly mockingly, then swept out of the bar.

She watched him shut the door behind him, then saw his silhouette through the misty glass as he paused outside her window. A dark finger traced something onto the glass, then hurried away through the snow. She stared at it. A tiny heart. That's all he had left her with.

"Uh, Miss?" the grubby bartender and appeared behind her. "Won't you be going now, with your, uh… gentleman friend?"

She turned away from the window with a hard look in her eyes. "No," she said grimly. "No, keep the drinks coming."

She busied herself in her alcohol once more, doing everything so could do forget the night. Because Blaise Zabini was the type of boy who would, come to think of it, take your first kiss and waste it, take your heart then break it. Blaise Zabini was the type of boy who knew all the right things to say to have a girl wrapped around his little finger. Blaise Zabini was bad news.

Blaise Zabini was just another sorrow to drown.


End file.
